Lady of Steel

by Mary Gillgannon

  His tongue joined hers in a sensual dance that shimmered pleasure down her body. It was intense and satisfying, yet she wanted more. She stepped back so she could touch his face. Her fingers brushed along his jaw where she had kissed him, the stubble of his beard raking against her fingertips. His body was so different from hers. Scratchy where she was smooth. Hard where she was soft. And yet his lips were soft, and his hair as silky and fine as hers. She played with the thick wavy tresses for a few moments before stroking the hard column of his neck. As she kneaded the muscles there, he sighed.

  She moved her hand lower and met the rough wool of his tunic. He removed her hand from his chest and pulled the tunic over his head to reveal a sleek, tanned chest. His body was so beautiful. Smooth glossy skin. Muscles rippling with power. She met his gaze and smiled. He gazed back her, unsmiling, his dark eyes fierce.

  She used a finger to trace the dark areole of one of his nipples. As it peaked, a sweet arrow of delight pierced her. His body was a mirror of her own, yet wonderfully unlike in so many ways. She fondled his other nipple, then made lazy circles on his chest, exploring the padded contours. When she wearied of that, she moved her hand down to his navel and the line of coarse hair there.

  His body went rigid, as if he could not bear to have her touch him so close to his groin. She felt no sympathy. He had done the same to her more than once, arousing her to fever pitch.

  After a few seconds, he grabbed her hand. “If you continue doing that, I fear I will lose control.”

  She shot him a defiant look. “Would that be so awful?”

  “But you…you must be sore from this afternoon.”

  “Aye. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get pleasure from touching you.”

  “I don’t think I can endure it.”

  She gazed at him steadily. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t give you satisfaction. There is more than one way for you to find release.”

  Her words seemed to make him even more uncomfortable. He frowned at her. “But that’s not how it’s done. ’Tis the man’s part to pleasure the woman.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “And this woman’s pleasure comes from touching you.” When he still frowned, she added, “I think you fear the loss of control. Always you must be in charge, the stallion covering the mare. Have you never had a woman arouse and tantalize you?”

  “Of course. But in the end I always…” He gestured vaguely, as if he did not want to use some crude term to describe the act.

  She regarded him steadily. “Perhaps it is time for you to be the one who is fondled and teased.”

  He hesitated a few heartbeats, then said, “Perhaps it is.”

  Despite his assent, she could tell he was uneasy. Clearly, he disliked not being in control. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be a woman. Few females ever had control over their bodies, or their lives. They were ruled by first their fathers and then their husbands. Of all the women Nicola knew, Glennyth was the only one who had any measure of true independence. Perhaps that’s why someone had sought to burn her out.

  The memory of the smoking, ruined cottage aroused Nicola’s bitterness and anger. But, nay, she would not dwell on what had happened to the wise woman. Instead, she would concentrate on the man in front of her.

  Young, powerful and virile Fawkes. At this moment, he was hers, and she meant to take advantage of the fact. She reached for the waist of his chausses. After loosening the drawstring, she pulled them down, exposing his ruddy, up-thrust shaft. She took it in both hands, reveling in the feel of soft skin and hard flesh. It felt so marvelously warm and alive. She used one finger to touch the tip, stroking tenderly.

  He made a sound as if he was in agony. She ignored him. Had he not tormented her in similar fashion—his fingers playing with the most excruciatingly sensitive parts of her body? She slid her hand down the smooth length of his shaft, then back to the tip. She repeated the motion while looking at his face. His eyes were closed, his features taut. She returned her gaze to his groin and gave his sleek, lovely rod of flesh several more provocative, lingering caresses, then reached for the silken sacks beneath.

  She took the soft, fleshy orbs in her hand, manipulating them tenderly. He gasped, choking on a groan. How vulnerable this part of him was. How intriguing. Loose skin enclosing plum-sized spheres. The source of his seed, the slippery liquid he put inside her. She thought of how it felt, the hot fluid pulsing as he reached his peak. Did she wish for him to do that to her now?

  It was impossible to touch him like this without thinking of what his body did to hers. His shaft inside her, filling her, making her wet. Thrusting into her, battering against her womb. Riding her, taking her on a journey to the stars. Thinking of it, she had to take a deep breath herself. The faint ache between her legs had become a fierce throb. He was right. She was sore. But at this moment, it didn’t matter. As always, her body sought his.

  She returned her attention to his shaft. After a few lingering caresses, Fawkes’s breath came short and fast. She finally took pity on him, and drew her hand away. But this didn’t bring him ease. Instead, he opened his eyes and gazed at her with a look of desperation.

  “You wish me to stop?” she asked.

  He frowned and didn’t answer. Perhaps he didn’t know what he wanted. Or, perhaps he did but was honoring her wish to fondle and pleasure him.

  She glanced again at his rigid shaft, boldly jutting upwards. A thought came to her. Perhaps there was a way to soothe both her desire for his body and her yearning for control.

  She gestured. “Lie on the bed.”

  His eyebrows shot up, but he did as she asked. Although first he sat on the side of the bed and removed his boots and braies and chausses. When he was naked, he got on the bed and lay on his back. His shaft thrust up like a beacon.

  Nicola loosened the lacing on her gown, hands trembling. She wanted him so badly. The flesh between her legs was taut and aching, and near dripping with wetness.

  Once the laces were undone, she pulled the gown over her head and slipped free of her loincloth. Then she went to the bed and climbed onto it. She knelt next to him, trying to decide what to do next. Should she fondle him some more? Or straddle him and push herself down onto his thick, lovely shaft?

  How wanton she would appear if she did that. Not to mention he would see her private parts as she spread her legs to straddle him. The idea gave her a strange thrill and she moved into position.

  As she straddled him, his hands came up to grasp her hips. Within seconds, he had scooted down on the bed so his face was between her thighs. She was too startled to protest as gripped her thighs and spread her legs wider. Then he raised his head so her cleft was only inches from his mouth. Nicola felt a stab of embarrassment. But her body seemed to have a mind of its own, for she found herself leaning forward and allowing him to put his lips on her most intimate, secret place.

  She gasped as he nuzzled her there and then began to lick and suck. Quivers of ecstasy darted through her body and she could hardly hold still. When he stuck his tongue inside her, she found herself whimpering. Even though she was on top, she was no longer in control. He was dominating her with his mouth, making her as helpless as ever. As always, it was her body that betrayed her, revealing her desire and need for him. She wanted him so much. Inside her, filling her deep. And she wanted it now.

  She pulled from his grasp and slid down until she was poised over his thick, jutting shaft. Taking hold of it, she lowered herself until the plump tip pressed against her wet, tender opening. Wriggling into position, she slowly lowered herself, gasping as each inch of his solid flesh slid inside. Despite how wet she was, it was still a slow and agonizingly intense process. Inch by inch his shaft impaled her. Inch by inch her body yielded.

  When he was fully inside, she sought to relax and catch her breath, to adjust to the almost unbearable pressure. She felt split apart, pierced by his massive spear. Then he bucked upwards, sending rays of pleasure shimmering through her and more wetness seepi
ng from inside her with each thrust of his hips.

  She gave in, realizing her plan to be in control was hopeless. No matter how she sought to take charge of their lovemaking, he always managed to thwart her. He had all the weapons, dominating her with his size and strength, and now with this fleshly lance that penetrated her defenses utterly.

  Once again, she was defeated. Conquered. Overpowered. Her body yielded like a castle wall shattered by a missile from a trebuchet. As her defenses crumbled completely away, she had no choice but to surrender.

  As she did so, the shattering pleasure sent her flying to the heavens.

  Afterwards, when she was limp and mindless with completion, he grabbed her hips and reversed positions. Now he was on top and in total control as he drove his shaft into her.

  Incredibly, her spent, satiated body responded; the fire of arousal blazed through her once more.

  On and on he rode her down a fiery magical trail to paradise. As they reached the thrilling heights, she realized they were no longer two separate people, but one being, one soul. They began their descent and she clutched his arms and pulled him down onto her. His breast heaved and his skin was slick. His heart beat against hers, and utter contentment filled her. There was no battle between them now. They had sought out and shared the incredible ecstasy together.

  ****

  Ahh, what this woman did to him. Fawkes lay sprawled next to Nicola. Each time he made love to her was better than the last. As his knowledge of her body increased, so did his pleasure. And each time he felt the distance between them narrowing. As he came to understand her body, and its effect on his, he felt closer and closer to her. She was no longer the distant, unapproachable goddess he had once imagined her to be, but simply a woman. He yearned for that woman as passionately as ever. But now it was her essence he sought—her soul—as much as her body. He loved Nicola, not as an ideal or a dream, but as a woman.

  The idea both exhilarated him and terrified him. When she was a fantasy, he might have been able to go on if his dream was shattered. But now that he loved her as a flesh and blood woman, he wasn’t certain he could survive without her.

  She shifted and he realized she must be uncomfortable. He moved so he was no longer lying halfway on her. She wriggled beneath his arm and laid her head on his chest. He exhaled a long sigh. This is exactly what he wanted. This sense of peace and perfect repletion. Somehow holding her like this made him feel that all was well in the world.

  Of course it wasn’t. A dozen troubling problems faced them. But now they faced them together, which made it so much less wearying.

  He gave into the languorous contentment. Eyes closed, he inhaled her warm, sweet, delicate scent. The perfume of soft rain and sunshine on the grass. Of summer and childhood.

  The thought made him half-smile. Then his thoughts blurred and he thought no more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nicola woke to a tapping at the door. Daylight oozed through the window. She gently removed Fawkes’s arm that was draped over her and slipped out of bed. After pulling the shift over her head, she went to the door.

  “I’m going back to the cottage,” Glennyth said.

  “Why?”

  “Many reasons. I want to see what I can salvage. I feel trapped and closed in here at the castle. And then there’s Tom. He can’t roam free the way he’s used to doing. There are other cats here and I don’t want there to be a fight.”

  Nicola realized Gimlyn might not be pleased to have another male cat in his territory.

  “I’m taking your basket.” Glennyth held it up. “I left the medicines that were in it in the solar.”

  “How is Reynard?”

  “He’s quite sore. I think perhaps he’s regretting his noble gesture. He needs to avoid using his hands, so they will heal. I’m worried the smoke has also injured his lungs. He seems short of breath.”

  That wouldn’t please Fawkes. Although what did it matter if Reynard did nothing for a few days?

  Fawkes called, “Who is it?”

  Nicola turned. “Glennyth. She’s going back to her cottage to see what can be saved from the fire.”

  Fawkes appeared beside Nicola, still fastening his chausses. “You must be careful,” he told the wise woman. “Whoever set the fire might be lurking around, waiting for you.”

  “I don’t think whoever did this is bold enough to confront me,” Glennyth said. “The way they tried to burn me out seems like the work of a coward.”

  “I think Glennyth is right,” Nicola said. “She’s not in danger now that it’s clear she’s under our protection.”

  “Unless part of their reason for attacking Glennyth was to undermine my authority,” Fawkes said.

  “Or mine,” Nicola retorted. “They might have meant to strike at me.”

  “That’s true,” Glennyth said. “The person who did this might resent both of us, women who have too much power. But no matter their motivation, I’m certain this person is not bold enough to attack me in broad daylight.”

  “You’re likely right. Go then. But don’t stay away too long. You must see to Reynard until he is healed.”

  “Of course I will,” Glennyth replied, hazel eyes flashing. “I’m well aware I owe him a debt.”

  Fawkes bristled at the woman’s tone, and Nicola realized what she’d been doing wrong. If someone appeared to defy him, Fawkes grew angry. She must stop being so defensive and resentful. As Old Emma had once told her, she had all the weapons she needed to prevail in this battle between her and Fawkes. But she must stop thinking of it as battle. Fawkes was not her adversary. They had the same goals. They simply differed in how to reach those goals.

  The thought eased some of her tension and when Glennyth left and Fawkes turned to her with a gleam in his eyes, she responded eagerly as he took her in his arms.

  “I’m certain you are sore. But if I promise to be very gentle, do you think we might go back to bed and…” He nibbled on her neck. Nicola shivered and gave in to the magical fire that burned between them.

  ****

  Once again Fawkes sat in the lord’s chair in the sun-dappled common pasture. But this time the reeve didn’t stand beside him, but Gerard of Malmsbury. The lean, dark-haired knight had been one of Mortimer’s knights. But as soon as Fawkes’s arrived he’d seemed eager to switch his allegiances. So far Fawkes had found him solid and stable, and less likely to indulge in the questionable behavior some of own knights had displayed. Now Gerard stood sentinel as people from the village came to speak to Fawkes and explain their whereabouts during the fire. Some came willingly. Others were grudging and suspicious.

  To those who seemed less than eager, Fawkes reassured them he was questioning everyone. This appeared to ease the mood of some, while others remained tight-lipped and resentful. Fawkes was puzzled. It was one of the women who clarified the reason for her sullen mood. “All this trouble for that haughty bitch.” She jerked her head in the direction of the ruined cottage. “If my house burns down, are you going to do this?”

  “Yea, if I think the fire was set deliberately.” Fawkes held the woman’s gaze until she looked away. “’Tis clear you resent Glennyth. Has she never aided you? Given you medicine or advice on some ill or another?”

  Orva, one of the villein’s wives, stiffened and her scowl deepened. “Of course I’ve had medicines and advice from her. But I’ve paid for all of it. How do you think she came to have such a fine dwelling? She doesn’t offer her services for free. At least not to my family. There are those she is willing to do anything for, even though they have no means to pay her.”

  “Perhaps that’s the point,” Fawkes said. “She asks for payment from you because you have the means, but gives away her services to those who can’t afford them. It seems fair to me. Glennyth must have some means of survival, so she sells her skill at healing. ’Tis no different than the miller charging you to grind your grain.”

  “But she is a woman.” Orva’s eyes flashed with animosity and her weathered featu
res grew tight. “’Tis not fitting for her to live that like, with no man to keep her.”

  Fawkes had thought the village men might resent Glennyth. He had not imagined women would feel that way. This woman was clearly not fond of Glennyth. There might be others. Wives who felt that if they were subject to the authority of their husband, then other women should endure the same fate.

  Orva was looking at him, expecting him to agree. He did not. Although he’d clashed with Glennyth in the beginning, now he admired her. She was strong and independent, but also fair and compassionate. Those qualities were commendable in anyone, man or woman.

  But it would be foolish to share such thoughts with the bristling matron before him. Defending Glennyth would only anger Orva. And despite her comment about being under her husband’s authority, he suspected Orva was actually the one who made most of the decisions in her household.

  He nodded to Orva. “Thank you for you speaking with me. I’ll take your words under advisement.”

  The woman’s frown eased, but didn’t go away altogether. Straightening, she said, “Are you certain you have no more questions for me?”

  “What do you think I should ask you, Goodwife Orva?”

  “Why, who set the fire, of course!”

  He was taken aback. “You know who set the fire?”

  Orva nodded, eyes glinting like a contented cat. “Eadulf. You know how much he hates Glennyth. When you turned down his plea for compensation, he decided to get even in his own way.”

  “Do you have proof of this?”

  “Proof?”

  “Yea. Did you see him near the cottage before it caught fire?”

  Orva’s scowl was back. “The cottage is hidden among the trees. Anyone could have crept through the woods and done this.”